


Don't Need Mistletoe

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s been having a pretty terrible year and finds someone to spend his pittyable Christmas with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Need Mistletoe

It’s December 24th and Santa has come early.

Except Santa hasn’t come early or at all for many years. It’s been way too long since his babies believed in Santa but he likes to put up stockings filled with candy because it’s just not Christmas without stockings.

And when he found his stocking on the bottom of an old cardboard box he honestly, really truly, debated tossing it in the fire. That was one of the moments in his life where he really really admired his willpower.

The girls are popping chocolate into their mouths much too early in the morning and his lone boy is lounging tiredly, much too cool to actually be dealing with presents from Santa at such old age.

His youngest is alight with joy as she opens a package from himself, clothing he’d had his oldest pick out because she wants to be exactly like her older sister (But would never admit it of course).

They’d gotten to name Darcy when she was born. The couple that gave her up didn’t want to see her, didn’t want contact, didn’t want to know the gender.

The next two were two and four at adoption, Oliver, or Ollie as he’d insisted once upon a time, and Olivia. Harry remembers meeting them for the first time, they hadn’t planned on getting siblings but their adoption counselor explained the tragedy that left them orphans and really they’d wanted a baby but Harry followed his partner around for weeks with puppy eyes and mini cakes until he gave in.

Harry managed to crack a smile as the girls swooped in for thanks and cheek kisses and he held them a little too tight and a little too long. Ollie manages a thanks for his new video games and whatever else Harry ended up buying him. He knows there’ll be more tomorrow, just not from himself.

He tries to ignore the bags that are lined up by the front door, suitcases full of clothes and more makeup than his daughters could possibly ever need. Somehow he manages to make it through mid-morning pancakes with sticky fingers and what he considers an attempt at cheer.

His stomach drops when he glances at his watch and realizes it’s time to go, his Christmas with his family already done, gone and over with before the day even came. The three wrap their coats around their bodies and Olivia somehow manages to win dibs on the front seat for once. He backs his car down the driveway and ignores the fact that this is his last year with Darcy at home before she leaves for University and he can’t even have her home for Christmas.

There is no Christmas music in the car, top ten songs drift through the speakers and everyone complains about the songs they don’t like. Harry’s got a sad smile on his face when Olivia asks him if he’s alright, “I’m fine.”

He pulls up to the house around one, it’s draped in lights and there are little kids playing in the light dusting of snow on the ground. The kids, some quicker than others, jump out of the car and Harry lets out a deep sigh when a female looks out the window from the kitchen with a bright smile on her face.

That’s by far the worst part. That he was the one who committed the crimes of their relationship, yet he was the one with the happy ending. Harry carries Olivia’s rucksack and wheels Darcy’s suitcase to the front door. It smells like cinnamon, but Harry’s spent enough time around baking ingredients to know that it’s just a candle. He thinks that she is trying to outdo him, a sheet of Christmas cookies resting on the granite counter tops.

“My goodness,” She gasps, a hand fluttering over her voluptuous chest, blond hair falling in curls over her shoulder, an apron tied around her waist, accentuating a growing second trimester bump, “Look at you three, growing by the minute!”

Coats are being hung in the coat closet and it makes Harry feel like a slob, and dammit he’s raised these kids for a minimum of eleven years and she’s known them for half a year and can get them to hang up their stuff.

“Harry,” She sighs, a smile on her face and he almost forgets that she’s a homewrecker, “How are you darling?”

“I’m good,” He nods, watches as his kids scatter to rooms up the stairs. The house is much roomier than his compact London home, brighter and more spacious and more English countryside.

“Would you like a cookie dear?” She asks, using a spatula to scrape them off a cookie sheet.

“We just had breakfast,” And Harry looks at the frosted delights, knows he can do better, “But thanks.”

“Oh well I’ll just bag some for the road then,” He feels so awkward, standing just outside the kitchen with his shoes and coat still on, but doesn’t refute, “Nick’s out at the hardware store, we had a little flood in the bathroom this morning.

Harry nods and doesn’t recall Nick being able to fix anything, ever. A smaller kid trickles in the door, blond hair and brown eyes with red cheeks and missing teeth, “Oh, Charlie dear, you remember Harry, right?”

Harry offers a curt wave to the nine year old, watches as his own children return from their rooms and snag cookies from the counter. Heidi smiles broadly as they nibble about the counter, “Well, I think I’m going to head out.”

“Oh, dear, you don’t have to leave so soon,” She sighs, rubbing at her stomach with a much too bright smile, and Harry is just jealous because she’s had his partner for six months and they are going to be doing something Harry and Nick weren’t able but Harry wanted so desperately in their twenty four years together.

“No, I-” Harry stops, trying to think of a valid excuse to leave, but really it’s Christmas eve and he’s nowhere to go, “I should go.”

“Well can I offer you anything for the road?” Heidi mumbles and at least Olivia stands up from her stool and walks over to give him a hug. Harry’s still a good foot taller than her, so he bends down and wraps her tightly, lifting her feet of the ground as she pecks his cheek, “Coke, water, tea, coffee?”

“No, thanks though Heidi,” He gently sets down Olivia but she pulls his neck down so his head is at her height.

“Her cookies are nothing compared to yours,” She whispers in his ear and Harry smiles his first genuine smile of the day.

“Gonna miss you love,” He pecks her cheek once more and releases her from his grip, Heidi is standing with her arms wide and a bag of cookies in her hands.

“Thanks for dropping them off,” She wraps her petite body around him, depositing the bag in his hands, “Have a splendid Christmas.”

Harry thinks that that’s royal coming from her, but nods and he still feels incredibly awkward. He pulls the door open and thanks her for the cookies as his other two shout their farewells. He doesn’t think the exchange could get much worse but when he opens the door Nick is laying on the wet ground, play wrestling with Heidi’s other son. His head perks up and he shouts a little too loudly, “Harry!”

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets, deep, and fiddles with his keys, “Nick.”

Nick stands and grabs his own keys from his pocket, “You leaving? I’ll move my car when you pull out, you’re in my spot.”

“Yeah,” Harry shuffles his feet, hitting a little patch of ice, “‘m leaving.”

His smile wavers a little and Harry rolls his eyes when Nick turns his back as he walks towards his car. He slides into his seat and double checks to make sure no small kids are behind him as he pulls out of the driveway. Nick waves to him and he pretends not to notice as he pulls out. Just to make himself feel better he rips open the green ribbon wrapped around the top of the small plastic Christmas bag and pops one of Heidi’s cookies into his mouth, he chews slowly and the cookie’s definitely too dry. He gets a minimal amount of satisfaction from that.

When he gets home the house is quieter than it’s ever been and he realizes that it’s the first time he’s going to be spending a night here completely alone.

So he slides Elf in and tries to remember when the kids were young and looked up at him like he was their favorite person in the world, and when they all used to fit on the couch with tea for himself and hot chocolate for the kids, watching this very movie.

-

Harry steps into his warm home after his day of cookie cutters and frosting.

It’s warmer than usual and the living room is in a sort of disarray that wasn’t there when he left for the bakery just before five that morning, but he lets it slide and continues on his quest for the bedroom, his daily two hour nap beckoning him before the kids come home from school.

Brown eyes glare at him when he pushes the door open, the bedroom is even in more of a disarray than the living room. Clothes are scattered about on the floor, suitcases full of clothes, and toiletries sticking from the top of a soft canvas bag.

“Did you get called for another trip?” Harry questions because that’s why he’s packing, that’s why he’s been packing so much, because of his promotion. The international promotion.

“No.”

Harry’s back hits the bed anyway, because he’s tired. He’s so tired, “Where’re you going then?”

“I’m leaving,” Nick states with a blank face and a twitch in his foot.

“I-” Harry sits up and leans his back against the wall behind him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re shitting me Harry,” He watches as Nick slides a silver band off his right hand, the one Harry had put on so many years ago at their commitment ceremony, “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

“But I-” He stutters and this seems serious, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nick looks deadpanned and rolls his eyes, “Heidi’s pregnant.”

Harry racks his brain, can’t remember a Heidi. Maybe it’s someone Nick works with? “Who?”

“Heidi,” Nick repeats, “The girl I’ve been seeing.”

Harry feels an inexplicable feeling that’s very reminiscent to the plunge of a roller coaster that never goes back up as Nick zips up the side of a suitcase.

The door is plied open again and Nick leaves Harry in his wake on the bed, it takes him a moment to register what’s actually going on, what Nick is actually saying.

“Wait, Nick,” Harry shouts out the door and follows him to the top of the stairs, looks down from the loft to where Nick is standing by the door, “You’ve been?”

Nick shakes his head, “Really Harry? Did you really think I was on business meetings?”

“Of course,” Harry racks through his brain, because why shouldn’t he have believed that Nick was going on business meetings?

Nick’s eyes are dull and he slides his shoes on his feet.

“With a woman?” Harry’s voice is higher than it’s ever been because this, this is a lot to sink in.

“Yes Harry,” Nick rolls his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at Harry.

“And she’s pregnant?”

Nick nods in exasperation, hand on the doorknob.

His head nods from side to side, “You’re just going to leave? Leave the kids? Give up on us?”

“Yes Harry,” He repeats, halfway out the door.

“Nick,” Harry trots down the stairs after Nick lets the door drop, opens the door to shout after him but he’s already in his car, pulling down the driveway, “NICK! We can figure this out, we can figure something out.”

But Nick doesn’t hear him, spinning down the street with a screech of tires.

-

Harry hates that dream. The dream that is reality.

He wakes up much later than he ever has on Christmas morning, eleven o’clock rounding the clock. There’s no bouncing energy in the house, the only reminder that it’s even Christmas is the wrapping paper littered on the floor from yesterday morning.

It’s kind of ironic, that he gets full custody of the kids year round but Nick gets them on Christmas. What a load of pure and utter bullshit.

At least on every other day of the year he’s got somewhere to be early in the morning. He’s been at the bakery by five every day since it opened, but like every other business it was closed for the holiday.

He pauses to praise that at least the kids were older and that he was comfortable leaving them home for a few hours when he and Nick split, that he could leave early for the bakery to get stuff rolling and be back home by six thirty to wake the kids and get them to school.

Sometime later he manages to roll of the couch and his back feels terrible, it cracks slowly as he stretches. He feels like the red wrapping paper is mocking him so he grabs the bin and shoves it away.

He wastes his day reminiscing and watching Christmas movies, doesn’t want to do anything. Darcy sends him some pictures and he gets at least one text from each of his children. By five o’clock he’s ready to get drunk.

So he hunkers down in his black peacoat, stumbling around the streets of London in the now dark streets. He looks for anything really, any pub or any club that’s open and he can get a nice pint or two from.

A building with a green awning has its door open and Harry has never been there but there’s a first time for everything. It’s musky inside, dark colors and a little smoky but Harry slithers up to the bar and orders some generic brew. Besides the bartender there’s no one there.

He nurses his drink softly and tries to ignore the pity that the bartender is sending him, and also the pity he has for himself. It’s nearly been a half hour of staring at his blank phone when someone else walks in, orders a beer as well and asks if there’s a bar menu. The bartender returns with something short, nothing more than a few appetizers.

“Well mate,” A man probably similar to his own age speaks up next to him, “Fancy some nachos on this lovely holiday?”

Harry smiles weakly and realizes the man is also in a fair amount of distress, “Why not?”

“Louis,” He holds his hand out and Harry grips it tightly.

“Harry.”

“I hope you don’t take much offense to this but it’s quite a pity we’ve had to meet,” Louis’ eyes are blue and don’t twinkle as the bartender, Harry finds out he’s Jewish, shuffles back to the kitchen before they formally place an order. Harry’s phone buzzes finally and he slides his finger across the screen to open the text, “Family?”

Harry lifts his head up with a nod, “My daughter.”

“Nice,” Louis nods, taking a draw of his beer, “Got one of my own.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, one upping him, “I’ve got three. Kids that is, two girls, one boy.”

“How old?” Louis falls into pattern because he finds that talking about his daughter is easier than anything else.

“Darcy’s eighteen in January, Ollie’s fifteen, Olivia’s thirteen,” Harry lays out, “Yours?”

“Rosie’s fourteen,” Louis sighs, “Where do the days go?”

Harry chuckles in agreement, holding his pint up, “I’m with ya on that one.”

Louis is oh so very camp in his cuffed jeans and braces, doesn’t make any effort to hide it and Harry appreciates that. Soon enough a plate of nachos is set in front of them and Louis sighs, “We’re a pathetic lot, aren’t we?”

“Absolutely,” Harry agrees mid chew, bouncing his feet, “Nachos on Christmas.”

Louis wraps melted cheese around his crisps in silence, “So, what do you do?”

“I own a bakery in North London,” Harry swipes at his curls as Louis stares him down, feet twitching in angst, “You?”

“Drama teacher,” He laughs with a right smirk on his face, “Doesn’t get much more cliche than that does it?”

Harry shrugs with a smile, “I think it suites you.”

“Thank you Harry the baker,” Suddenly the crisps are gone, Louis swipes his finger through the melted cheese sticking to the bottom of the plate. He sighs, “I think I’m going to need something a little stronger if we’re gonna sit here and share depressing stories, yeah?”

Harry shrugs and takes another look at his eyes, feels the pain reflecting in his green orbs, “Or, we can go back to my place, I’ve got some spectacularly expensive vodka my ex left?”

“Hmm, I don’t know what could be better than sharing pity stories over expensive vodka that’s not my own on Christmas,” Louis slaps down a note, plenty to cover two beers and the nachos, “Lead the way.”

Harry buttons up his coat and wraps a scarf tight around his neck, Louis trails him but catches up quick enough. Their matching breaths create fog in the cold and it’s not too long before Harry fumbles his key into the lock of his front door. Louis glances around and it’s eerie because it’s like walking into a house that used to be a home. Harry tosses his coat onto a stair railing so Louis does the same, shucking his shoes on the mat and following Harry through the living room to the kitchen.

Louis watches as Harry bends over in a spectacular pair of jeans and briefly contemplates how inappropriate having a one night stand on Christmas actually is, “You want shots or some cranberry juice.”

“Both,” Louis mutters in response.

“Good idea,” Harry mumbles, grabbing some shot glasses and cups, before grabbing some cranberry juice from the refrigerator. He pours it over a hand towel, not bothering if he spills a little. He offers Louis a shot and holds his glass up in toast, Louis follows and they tip their heads back simultaneously. When Louis looks up Harry’s making a face that he imagines to be similar to his own.

He busies himself pouring some cranberry juice and Louis watches his adorable curls, “Do your kids have hair half as nice as your own?”

Harry raises an eyebrow with a smile and laughs, “They’re adopted.”

“Oh,” Louis nods and Harry slides over his phone, a picture of them his background.

“Was a little difficult to have kids with my partner.”

Louis’ eyes widen, surprised in his own shit gaydar and thinks maybe that’s exactly why he can’t get a date, “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Don’t care,” Harry’s eyes are lit up a bit and Louis’ glad, doesn’t really know if it’s because Harry’s gay or his eyes are shining, “What about you, what’s your story?”

Louis smiles down at the counter, “Rosie was kind of a last stitch effort to prove I wasn’t gay.”

“Hope that’s not the story you told her,” Harry laughs and Louis thinks it’s genuine, “How’d that turn out?”

Louis shakes his own head with a smile, “Not well mate.”

Harry’s vodka cran is already half empty, “She with her mum?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods, “Not much to complain about though, Eleanor’s reasonable, I’ve got primary custody, we switch off every year for Christmas.”

“Nick gets them one week during the summer and Christmas,” Harry whispers dejectedly.

Louis scrunches his eyebrows, “Why on earth would you agree to that?”

“I got the house,” Harry gestures around with a sad smile, “Not that he needed it anyway.”

“What happened?” Louis’ genuine curiosity catches up with him, so he’s blatant and Harry can deny if he wants.

Harry sighs and glances around, tapping his fingers on the counter, “He cheated on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis sympathizes and gets the idea that it hasn’t even been that long since their separation.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Louis agrees out of curiosity, and he doesn’t care what it is because he’s with a stranger on Christmas.

“I-” Harry pauses to think of how to phrase his question, “Does it make it worse because it was with a girl?”

Louis’ eyes widen and he hadn’t considered that Harry’s husband or partner or whatever would’ve cheated with a woman.

“Is it bad that I’m jealous that she’s had him less than a year and she’s pregnant and that he’s getting a biological child and I’m sitting here getting drunk on Christmas with a complete stranger?”

“I-” Louis stops himself, “That’s right shit Harry, it really is.”

Harry runs a hand through his curls and they bounce away from his forehead, frowning at his drink, “At least I’ve got good hair.”

“Cheers to that,” Louis laughs pathetically, “If it makes you feel any better I haven’t dated anyone in five years, and I dye my hair.”

“That seems lonely,” Harry plucks at a whisk that’s sitting in an upright container on the counter, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Louis mulls, draining his glass and passing it to Harry for more, “I find dating hard.”

Harry laughs, “I don’t even know how to date, hell, where to even find a date.”

“Wish I had an answer,” Louis shrugs.

“I wish I had some marijuana brownies,” Suddenly the mood switches from serious to slightly cheeky and Harry considers himself successful when a smile breaks out on Louis’ face, “You wanna watch a movie or something?”

“If you’re asking,” Louis drags off, pushing back his bar stool, keeping a firm grip on his beverage. Harry’s couch is worn, he sinks easily and the cushions conform to his back and he realizes that had he ever needed to sleep on a couch, this would be a good one.

“Christmas Story?” Harry holds up the green box while popping open the DVD player, Louis nods so he slides it in and waits for the screen to change before he sits down.

There is a comfortable distance between them, but Harry pulls down a blanket and Louis curls under it too. Harry’s heat draws him closer and by the time Ralphie gets soap on the tongue Louis’ got his head resting on Harry’s shoulder.

Strangely enough Louis doesn’t mind this, he’s had plenty of worse Christmases sitting at home getting drunk by himself and somehow sitting in someone else’s home getting drunk seems like improvement. Harry’s dimples are cute and he only has a few grey pieces of hair in his full head, he smells like flour and brownies and his shirt is soft under his chin.

Louis’ flittering eyes begin to focus solely on Harry’s dimples and very slowly he leans up to brush his lips against the indentation on his face. Harry stiffens but the arm that Louis didn’t realize was around his body tightens and his head drops against his own. Their cheeks align and Louis nudges his nose against Harry’s. Harry’s lips are chapped and stained red from the cranberry juice, and when Louis sucks Harry’s bottom lip between his own he can taste the fruity substance.

Harry’s breathing is slower than his drawl. When they pull apart his eyes are closed so Louis kisses a trail from his chin, down his neck, and over his shirt to his shoulder. Harry reciprocates and grasps his larger than life hands on the back of Louis’ head to hold him steady as he studies Louis’ face. Louis watches as his eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips and back, before he closes his own eyes and swoops back down.

Louis is out of breath and either blatantly drunk or drunk on Harry’s lips when he mutters, “I haven’t slept with anyone other than Nick.”

Louis’ eyes flicker open to stare at Harry, he shifts a little farther away and studies his facial expression, “We don’t have to sleep together.”

“I want to though,” Harry is already on his feet and holding out his hand, Louis rises and Harry places his hands on his round waist to guide him toward the bedroom. Louis shivers when he bends to whisper in his ear, “Just be gentle with me.”

Louis smiles because Harry flops back down on the bed, arms spread with a lazy smile on his face. Louis crawls on to his waist and straddles him gently, letting his hands trickle up his chest until it reaches the collar of his white shirt.

-

Harry realizes he’s survived sometime around midnight.

Louis is laying next to him in a fit of laughter with his arm crossed over his eyes. The alcohol is draining from their systems and Harry feels sober but liberated. He reaches over to trace his hand up Louis’ bicep, over his collarbone, and down the crease in the middle of his chest.

He completely forgot that when he moved in with Nick he gave up his side of the bed, but when Louis falls into the spot he usually occupies he’s happy because it feels so much better. Unlike Nick, Louis is smaller than him and curls into his body comfortably and his warm breath tickles his chest when he laughs.

Harry likes the fringe that falls into his eyes, the admittedly died chestnut color accentuating his eyes. Louis takes some deep breaths when he realizes Harry’s calmed down and isn’t laughing much anymore. He grabs the hand that is tracing his body and interlaces with it to halt its movement.

Louis maintains eyes contact with him as he brings his hand to press a kiss to the palm, flipping it over and repeating the action to the blue veins of his wrist, “I’m going to regret this tomorrow morning.”

Louis jerks his head because he’s never had somebody say something that blunt to him before and certainly not while they were still in bed together, having a seemingly good time.

“No, I mean, I have to get up at four thirty to get to the bakery,” Harry explains quickly, not meaning that he regrets sleeping with him but rather regrets staying up late.

Louis pecks at his chest and up his neck to his lips, “You sell coffee at this fine establishment?”

“Only the best,” Harry’s eyes have begun to twinkle more than when he just talks about his kids and Louis takes this as a good sign.

“Might have to drop by for some,” Louis rolls on top of Harry so that he’s straddling him again, his chest pressed to Harry’s and his lips pressed to his neck, “If you’ll have me.”

Harry’s hands grip at his knees, hands sliding up his thighs to his bum and squeezing lightly, “Might be able to make something work.”

“Mmm,” Louis mumbles against his neck, nipping lightly, and sucking hard. He feels like a teenager.

-

Louis wakes to an empty bed like he expected, thinking Harry really must not do this often before he remembers that Harry hasn’t done this before, ever. He tries to remind himself to warn Harry that leaving his one night stands alone in his house may not be the best idea.

But there’s a note full of directions resting in his shoes.

It’s nearing ten when Louis leaves, after taking a long, hot shower in Harry’s bathroom. He steals a candycane to suck on from a candy bowl and hopes it’ll suffice for his lack of toothbrush.

There’s a teenager working the counter when he walks in the door so Louis mulls over the pastries in the glass box, decides he might not want just breakfast when he sees cookies with smiley faces drawn on. He’s kind of lost in his own trance when a deep voice rouses him, “Can I help you sir?”

Harry is awfully bright and cheery as he slips plastic gloves onto his fingers and Louis momentarily debates if he has to order special extra large pairs just for himself, “I do not condone dessert for breakfast.”

Louis laughs lightly and lifts his eyes to meet Harry across the counter, “Was thinking about taking some home, Rosie’s back tomorrow.”

“Let’s be honest, they won’t last to tomorrow,” Harry shuffles two yellow sugar cookies into a box and Louis browses over the croissants and decides on a plain one with orange marmalade and even though he asked for coffee decides on some tea.

Harry passes them over the display and Louis moves to grab his wallet but Harry smiles and insists, “It’s on the house.”

Louis glances around and it’s not busy and Harry’s helper has disappeared, “Didn’t know that all I needed to do for free food was take someone’s virtue.”

Harry’s eyes widen and Louis laughs, moving to pull out a chair and Harry follows and drops down, “Tired?”

“I’m fine,” Louis smiles sweetly as he blows softly at the surface with puckered lips, “You’re the one that got four hours of sleep.”

Harry’s chin is resting in his elbow and he’s got flour highlighted through his hair, “Yeah.”

“When do you have to go get your kids?”

“Tomorrow,” Harry accepts the corner of croissant that Louis passes him, watches as Louis moans when he takes a bite with a slight smile on his face.

“I don’t know why anyone would want to cheat on you if you make food like this,” Harry feels slightly taken aback by his bluntness but appreciates it at the same time, “But if you’re alone again tonight, I believe I owe you a meal.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised and Louis smiles at him over the rim of his styrofoam cup.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, he slides the directions out of his coat pocket and slides the piece of paper across the table to Harry, “Is it too forward of me to ask for your number?”

Harry shrugs and stands for a pen, “I’m not going to say no so I guess not.”

“Good,” Louis finishes and Harry straightens up as customers walk inside, “Goodmorning!”

Louis cringes but smiles with crinkles in the corners of his eyes and gives a wink to Harry before he stands up. The two that have walked in are clearly tourists, their voices loud and American as they instantly begin to dabble over food. Louis discreetly throws his bag away, snatches his box and cup after he slides gloves on his hands, “I’ll text you.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiles and watches as Louis leaves in his clothes from the night before, he pulls the door open and Harry tosses out a final, “Have a good day!”

Louis raises his hand in response and smiles up at the flakes falling from the sky.

-

Harry agrees to meet Louis at some restaurant he’s never been to at eight. He conspicuously scrubs his body clean, making sure to rid his naked body of every last bit of flour and sugar. By the time he steps out of the shower he can already tell he’s going to be late.

He spends too much debating how many squirts of cologne is acceptable and more than enough time trying on three different pairs of the same jeans. He decides on the darkest pair, wears them with a light blue button up and brown suede shoes with a matching jacket. He doesn’t much like driving in London so he bypasses his keys for his Oyster and starts his short treck to the nearest tube stop.

Harry only needs to switch lines once and manages to find his way to the restaurant only ten minutes late. Louis smiles at him and reaches up to tangle his hands in his curls, pulling him down for a kiss on the cheek, “You’re late too.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I haven’t even been here two minutes,” Louis explains, “They’re behind on our reservation too.”

Louis slides his arm low around his back and Harry likes the warmth his body emits and the affection isn’t bad either. Their tones are low and quiet as they talk in the dark night until Louis’ name is called out and the warmth of the building surrounds their body.

Perhaps what Harry likes best about this is the lost infatuation that happens after so many years with somebody. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of trying not to screw up in front of somebody else and feeling like he doesn’t know everything about this person, and this person doesn’t know everything about himself.

It’s a clean slate and Harry likes Louis’ laugh.

There’s quiet banter, nothing too important and they disregard the menus for too much time and aren’t ready when the waiter come for their order. Louis talks Harry into some wine and they’re dining over candlelight and it’s romantic.

Harry doesn’t think he’s done anything romantic since they brought home Darcy.

“So, what do you look for in a guy?” Louis asks, fingering the rim of his wine glass.

Harry shrugs and he isn’t exactly sure, “I guess I don’t know. Like, you’re completely different than Nick so.”

“How so?” Louis sucks in a breath as he watches Harry sip at a glass of water and tear a piece of bread.

“In every aspect,” Harry says honestly, “I mean, from what I know. You’re shorter than him, tanner, better hair. You seem more, I don’t know, fun, cheeky.”

Louis smiles gracefully wide, “I guess that’s maybe a good thing?”

“I think it could be,” Harry agrees, watching as Louis laughs for no reason, “What about you, what do you look for in a guy?”

“Somebody tall, good smile, good sense of humor, somebody handsome.”

Louis smiles in victory as Harry blushes and the waiter interrupts them with their meals. They twirl pasta around their forks with spoons for guidance.

When they’re done Louis forks the check before Harry even blinks and insists that they go for coffee and tea. So Harry follows him and Louis apologizes, saying he took the tube and Harry explains that he did too.

He feels kind of liberated when they board a crowded train and they stand next to each other, leaning against plexiglass with Louis pressed into his side and whispering in his ear with his arms wrapped around his torso.

When Louis said that they should grab coffee and tea Harry assumed they were going to a coffeeshop but Louis lead him to an apartment building and up a couple of flights of stairs. He grabbed both of Harry’s hands in his own, smothering him in front of the door before sliding a key in and whispering “Home sweet home.”

Harry smiles and Louis busies himself and they fall on the couch and don’t really do much because Harry is tired and cold but Louis frenches him nice and sloppy like a drunk teenager and Harry can’t help but kiss back.

As he’s standing in front of the door, ready to leave, Louis kisses him on the cheek with his arms wrapped around his neck, forcing him to promise that they’ll go out again in a few days.

-

Harry’s got a smile on his face when he picks up his kids that he certainly didn’t have before.

Darcy and Olivia bounce up to him with uniform shouts of “Dad!” when he walks in the warm house and Harry accepts them with arms open wide. Ollie even manages some sort of warmth at his arrival.

He packs them in the car and pesters them about what they did and what they got and how their future step-siblings liked their gifts. Darcy is trying to sleep in the front seat when she turns to him and asks what happened. Harry frowns at her and smiles wide, “What? I can’t be happy to be reunited with my amazing children?”

She rolls her eyes but smiles at him and winces when he tries to grab hold of her hand, “Hands on the wheel.”

“You all used to love holding hands with me,” Harry grins in the rearview mirror and Ollie’s got his large headphones pulled over his ears and Olivia is giggling in that in between child and teenager phase.

He pulls the car in the driveway and they sort out their bags and presents and by the time Harry walks inside their stuff is everywhere already.

The part he hates about teenagers is that they are so busy all the time. Before he even decides what he’s going to make for dinner, Darcy and Oliver have plans and he’s assigning curfews.

“But Dad, that’s totally not fare,” Ollie complains while Harry leans against the breakfast bar while the oven heats up, “Darcy’s curfew is an hour later than mine.”

“When Darcy was fifteen her curfew was eleven as well,” Harry wants to roll his eyes but resists the temptation.

“But Dad,” He tries pathetically, “Margies curfew isn’t until twelve.”

“I’m not Margies dad, am I?” Harry asks rhetorically, “Ollie, you just got home, give it a break yeah?”

“Fine,” Ollie grumbles but Harry catches his arm before he leaves the room.

“Ol,” Harry whispers, sliding his wallet out of his back pocket, “Don’t tell your sisters I did this, but pay for her ticket yeah? Get on her good side.”

Ollie smirks as Harry slides him a few quid, pocketing the money, “Thanks dad.”

“My son,” Harry sighs, “Going after the birds already.”

“Good God Dad,” Ollie rolls his eyes, escaping his dad’s teasing quickly.

“Good luck,” He shouts down the hallway, past Olivia who was lounging on the couch, “With Margie!”

Olivia giggles from the couch and picks up, “Ooh” ing as he passed by.

Harry motions for her to get off the couch and follow him into the kitchen, he lays a few extra pepperoni on the pizza he’s about to slide in the oven, “Wanna catch a movie tonight?”

“The one Ollie’s going to?” She asks, eyebrows raised and giggling, and Harry loves her personality so much because she’s always up for a bit of fun.

Harry shrugs, “If that’s what you want to see, I don’t care.”

“Yeah,” She nods and slides into a seat. There’s a silence and her dark nails tap against granite, “How was your Christmas?”

“It was fine darling,” Harry smiles and she’s still not so sure of this whole separation thing, “You had fun, right?”

“Yeah,” She sighs, and opens her mouth to say something but stops.

“What?” Harry asks and she really contemplates something.

“You and Dad,” She pauses, licks her lips and looks down at her feet, “You’re really never getting back together, are you?”

“Liv,” Harry’s shoulders shlump and he sighs, pulls her from the chair and wraps her tight in his arms.

“You’re not,” She states and Harry knows the feeling because he’s had many moments of realization like that, and what happened with Louis seems to punctuate that.

“No sweetheart,” Harry sighs in her ear and Darcy pokes her head in, scrunches her face in confusion, and says she’s leaving, “Back by midnight, got it?”

She nods and leaves and Olivia’s got her head pressed against his chest. He stretches back up to his height but keeps his arms tight and drops a soft kiss to the top of her head, “Liv, I love you.”

“You too,” She mutters and Harry rubs her back and doesn’t rush to separate themselves, knowing any moments like this with any of his kids were going to be too far between.

She separates when the timer for the pizza goes off and Harry gives her a sad smile when he sees her red eyes. They hunker over the pizza and eat off the cardboard. He gets a text from Louis while they’re eating and again on the tube on the way to the theatre.

Olivia drops her head against his arm when they sit down, popcorn and soda resting next to them, so Harry drapes his arm over her shoulders and chats lightly while they wait for the movie to start.

-

Harry gets a text from Louis moments after his last child asks him about plans for the night. Olivia’s going to a sleepover, Ollie’s going to Margie’s house for dinner, and Darcy is going out with her boyfriend Greg for dinner or something.

Ollie leaves when Harry packs Olivia into the car to drop her off and Greg arrives to pick up Darcy just as he’s pulling back into the driveway. She’s upstairs getting ready so Harry lets him in and drills him on where they’re going.

Darcy is ready momentarily and scolds him, lightly shoving him out of the way to slide on her new boots and promises she’ll be back by midnight and when the door closes shut he races up the stairs to change.

It’s barely seven and he’s let Ollie have a late curfew so he’s got about four hours before he needs to be home.

He changes quick and rushes to the tube to meet Louis at the theatre, walking up to Louis and squeezing his waist from behind. He jumps and Harry smiles widely as he turns to wrap his arms around his waist. Harry accepts the kiss he offers him and Louis starts rambling on about some artsy movie he’s so excited to see but Rosie absolutely refuses to go with him.

 

While they stand in line Louis criticizes the casting decisions and Harry just revels in his sweet voice. They sit down and Louis holds his hand and Harry likes when he looks at him with a twinkle in his eye. They switch their phones off as the lights go down.

-

When the movie’s done Harry has every intention of following Louis home and spending his last hour on his couch with a cup of coffee and a pair of lips on his own. When they settle in their seats and he flips his phone open he’s got two text messages, three phone calls, and a voice mail from Darcy and another from Ollie.

He sends Louis a concerned glance and brings his phone to his ear. It only rings twice until Darcy answers, “Dad?”

“Darce, what’s up sweetheart?” He mutters softly into the phone and her voice sounds shaky, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” She sighs, voice wavering over the phone, “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way home,” He squeezes Louis’ hand, who sends him a concerned glance, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I just, got home and you weren’t here.”

“I’m on the tube, ‘kay?” He stands up as the train stops, Louis follows him as he moves to switch lines, “I’ll be home in a few minutes, alright?”

“Yeah,” She whispers, “By dad.”

Harry hangs up his phone and sends Louis a look, “Everything okay?”

“She says she’s fine,” Harry sighs, looking at his phone and sending a text to Ollie, “But she’s home early and called Ollie to find out where I was.”

Louis grips his arm, “You’ll be okay making it home?”

Harry bends over to press a kiss to his lips, hears the train coming and the wooshing sound of the man made wind, “I’ll be fine, thanks for the movie.”

“Yeah,” Louis grips at his waist, “I had fun. Do it again, soon?”

“Definitely,” Harry smiles and the train is slowing to a stop, presses one last kiss to his lips, “I’ll see you soon. Sorry we had to cut it short.”

“Kids come first,” Louis squeezes his hand as he turns away and watches as he boards the train with a short wave and a smile.

Harry sits and twiddles his thumbs as he watches the concrete pass on the train, he busies himself with a text to Olivia and tries to send one to Darcy but he doesn’t get a response. He walks about twice as fast to his house than he usually does and when he gets there Darcy is sitting at the breakfast bar eating ice cream out of the carton and wearing an old jumper of his and pajama pants.

Her eyes glaze over his body and she raises her eyebrows in question, “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” He kicks his shoes off, settling into the bar stool next to her and dropping a kiss to her head, “What’s up.”

It’s then that he realizes her eyes are bloodshot and she shrugs and her voice comes out wary, “Greg dumped me.”

Harry sinks in his chair and wraps his arm around the back of her own, tugging her a little bit closer, “Oh Darce.”

She’s quiet as Harry rubs his thumb over her shoulder and a tear drops from her eyes.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” He tugs her closer as she reaches out for him, wrapping her arm around his back, “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

“It’s fine,” She manages and Harry feels his heart crumble so he stands and swipes the ice cream away from her and shoves it back in the freezer.

Darcy follows him into the living room, he pulls Juno out and slides open the DVD player, because, hey, at least she’s not eighteen and pregnant.

Much like Olivia a few nights before, her head drops to his shoulder so he wraps his arm around her shoulder and keeps her tight because these moments are far too precious. He feels bad because he knows she’s hurting, that a breakup is never easy, but Darcy is so independent that he’s not worried about her in the slightest.

He can hear his phone buzzing in the kitchen where he left it, but he can’t bring himself to check it while he’s got his baby girl this close. She’s laughing at Michael Cena when she turns her head into his neck, giggling and hiding her face in his shoulder, “I’m glad you’re here instead of Dad.”

Harry almost feels pained when she says that, he really does because it can’t be easy to pretty much have one of your parents fall off the face of the Earth, much less adjust to the fact that one of your dads is suddenly straight and expecting a child, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” She insists and Harry knows it’s bad but it’s such a boost to his parenting ego that he suppresses the feeling and lets it go, “Where were you, earlier I mean?”

“Out,” He shrugs with a smile on his face but tries not to give himself away.

Darcy separates herself from his body and gives him a once over, he’s changed into much nicer clothes since she left and he’s definitely showered and done something to his hair, “Where?”

“Went to a movie,” He nods, sinking back into the couch, not really knowing if he’s ready to acknowledge the fact that he’s kind of dating much less for his kids to confront him about it.

“With who?” She asks, poking him in the side and he tries desperately not to blush.

“Nobody,” He shrugs again.

“You didn’t get dressed up to go to the movies by yourself,” She rolls her eyes, collapses her body back into the couch, “I’m not stupid.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just relaxes into the couch and suddenly Darcy is poking harshly at his neck.

“Oh, you little,” She hisses at him and he reaches to cover his neck, confused as to what she’s fascinated by, “Is that a love bite?”

“What?” Harry sits up, blushes a shade deeper and keeps a hand held over his neck because Louis most certainly hasn’t given him a love bite, at least not tonight, “Of course not!”

Darcy laughs and moves away from him, “You went on a date and didn’t tell me?”

“No, I-”

“Come on Dad,” She teases, prods at the hand on his neck, “I can not believe you got a live bite. What’s his name?”

“Whose name?” He feigns and she doesn’t believe him, not one bit.

“What are you?” Now she’s almost doubled over, “Thirteen?”

“No,” He hisses back, “There is nobody.”

“Well I’m sorry I broke up your love fest early tonight,” Her finger traces over the fading mark on his neck, “Don’t know where tonight was heading but to be honest that’s one of the most pathetic love bites I’ve ever seen.”

“Darcy,” He hisses harshly, standing up to leave the room with the intention of changing into something more comfortable and evidently something more covering.

“Come on dad, you can tell me,” She comforts, grabbing at his arm as he leaves the room, “I don’t care if you’re seeing somebody, I just want to know.”

“I’m not seeing anybody,” He reiterates.

“What’s his name?”

Harry smiles and shrugs her hand off, making sure he isn’t facing her so she can’t try to read him, “Louis.”

“Oh my God Dad,” She mumbles as he leaves, “You’re so cute, getting all embarrassed.”

“Leave me alone,” He tries to shrug her off but she follows him anyway, so he’s really got no choice but to pick her up, tossing her over his shoulder.

“Dad!” She squeals, giggling profusely, “Put me down! Dad! Before you throw out your back!”

Ollie picks exactly the right time to open the door, Harry is demanding for her to apologize if she wants down and Ollie drops his coat with confusion on his face, “What’s going on?”

“Dad’s got a boyfriend!” She squeals upside down.

“You’re in for it now young lady,” He flips her over the arm of the sofa like he used to do when she was younger, “And I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Ollie looks confused but Darcy interrupts, “That’s not what the love bite on his neck or the blush on his face when I was drilling him about it says!”

Harry laughs when Ollie rolls his eyes, Darcy adds, “His name is Louis. Lou-ee.”

“I’m going to have to get the soap young lady?” His arm is wrapping around her neck in a play hold and she’s laughing even more now. His other hand moves to poke and tickle at her side and she really begins to lose breath.

“Okay, okay,” She holds her hands up, “I surrender.”

Harry lets go and she tries to catch her breath and Harry is admittedly a little out of breath himself, “How did your date go young sir? Impress the poor parents of some desperate girl?”

“Oh my God,” He rolls his eyes again, he’s really getting quite good at that, “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, well,” Harry briefly turns his head at the sound of Darcy collapsing on the couch, “Goodnight my love!”

Darcy giggles loudly again and Harry collapses next to her, she drops her head back on his shoulder, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” He turns his head to press a kiss to her hair, “Wouldn’t change it for the world.”

-

Louis drops by the bakery the next morning, he’s got a tired looking teenage girl with him and Harry gives him a soft smile across the way, “Morning.”

“Morning,” Louis replies and Rosie, at least Harry assumes it’s Rosie, drops into a chair by the window, “Everything okay last night?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, “Darcy got dumped, you want tea? What about the little lady?”

“Tea for two,” He nods, swiping two bags from the counter and passing them to Harry, “That sucks.”

“Yep,” Harry nods, conversing while watching Louis look at pastries, “She’ll survive.”

“That’s good,” Louis replies with a chuckle, points at something sugary, “Rosie’s gonna want a doughnut.”

“Chocolate or white frosting?”

“Chocolate,” Louis watches as Harry slides the two onto small plates.

“Regular cups or to-go cups?”

“Regular please,” Louis slides down the counter, actually pays this time and brings his plates over to his sleepy daughter. When the tea is ready Harry brings the mugs over to the small table.

Rosie has got striking blue eyes and wavy brown hair, thin as a rail. Her eyes are coated in too much mascara and lined a bit too thickly and Harry nods all knowingly, “Tea?”

Louis swipes his, Rosie a little slower, “Anything else I can grab?”

“No, thanks,” Louis smiles gently and Harry nods, feels Louis’ eyes on him as he walks away.

It’s inbetween the morning and afternoon rush, so Harry washes the glass cases where little kids have pressed sticky hands in awe of the pastries. He watches Louis chat with his daughter, she’s busy texting on her phone but Louis doesn’t seem to mind too much. She holds up a picture and Louis throws his head back in a laugh, his carefully styled hair swooshing out of place.

Harry wishes them farewell when they leave, gathers their plates to wash.

-

Louis only visits him at the bakery one more time during break, it’s earlier and busier with a few lone businessman picking up breakfast to go and a few women with kids meeting up with other women and kids.

He’s got a playbook with him and he sits down to read it, nursing his tea gently and Harry refills his mug twice. It’s been at least an hour and a half by the time the crowd completely dies down, Louis drops his play and looks up at him, “Doing anything for New Year’s?”

“Can’t say I am,” Harry walks out from behind the counter, glances back to make sure his help is in the back tending the ovens and loading the dishwasher, “You?”

“I wanted to catch the fireworks,” Louis states, “And if you don’t have anyone else to kiss at midnight?”

“I guess if you’re that desperate,” Harry trails off.

“Well, Leonardo Dicaprio is busy so I guess I’ll settle.”

Harry grins as he slides into a seat across from him, grabbing the noted book from in front of him, “M. Butterly. Never heard of it.”

Louis watches as Harry flips the book open to a random page and his eyes widen, Louis smirks and grabs it back from him.

“It just hangs there. This little…flap of flesh. And there’s so much fuss that we make about it. I think the reason we fight wars is because we wear clothes. Because no one knows-between the men, I mean-who has the bigger…weenie. So. If I’m a guy with a small one, I’m going to build a really big building or take over a really big piece of land or write a really long book so the other men don’t know, right? But see it never really works, that’s the problem. I mean, you conquer the country, or whatever, but you’re still wearing clothes, so there’s no way to prove absolutely whose is bigger or smaller. And that’s what we call a civilized society. The whole world run by a bunch of men with pricks the size of pins.”

Harry stands there, not really sure what to say.

“It’s for my script reading class, makes the kids a little uneasy,” There’s post it notes littered through the book, he flicks at them, “That’s literary merit for ya.”

“What’s it about?”

“This guy has an affair with a woman,” Louis smiles because that’s how all plays go, there’s always an affair, “Takes him twenty years to find out she’s actually a he.”

“How?” Harry stumbles, “I mean-”

“It’s a true story,” Louis interrupts, “They were both spies. Quite surreal really.”

Louis rises from the table and holds a hand out to Harry, “Leaving?”

“Yeah,” He nods, swipes a gaze around the room before gripping the back of Harry’s neck for a quick kiss, “See you on the thirty-first?”

“Mhm,” Harry mumbles, lets go of the shirt he didn’t know he was clutching, “I’ll come to your place, yeah?”

“Come at nine?” Louis asks, backing toward the door, “We can grab some food or something?”

“Sounds good.”

-

Harry meets Eleanor for the first time while he’s balancing a cardboard boxed pizza and is working at unwrapping his scarf with one hand.

The door to Louis’ flat is open and somebody is leaning against the door frame. He gets closer and the female turns to him while Louis’ chatting with another male inside the door. Harry clears his throat and Louis turns his attention away from a similar heightened man, “Harry.”

“Um, Hi,” He stumbles, “Um, am I early?”

Louis glances at his watch, shaking his head, “Right on time, Rosie’s running a little behind. This is Eleanor, her husband Charles, El this is Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” She offers a daintily thin hand with a silver ring on one finger, she’s tiny but tall and has got the same wavy hair as Rosie.

“You too,” He confirms while Louis snatches the pizza and sets it on the bench.

She smiles a little and he shakes Charles’ hand as well, he’s taller than Louis and Eleanor but slightly shorter than himself. Eleanor clears her throat, “So are you?”

Louis laughs as she motions between the two of them and Harry feels him snake an arm on his waist and at tight grip on his hip, “Sort of.”

“Okay,” She nods and Rosie walks out in a dress and leggings, sliding boots up her thin legs, “Ready Ro?”

“Yeah,” Her voice is soft and Louis catches her by the arm before she can escape.

“Have fun,” She accepts a half hug and Louis steals a kiss to her forehead, she’s taller than both of his own daughters venturing fairly close to Louis’ height, “See you tomorrow.”

“By Dad,” She confirms and Eleanor offers a last smile and farewell before she closes the door.

“She seems nice,” Harry states, slides his coat over the top of a chair.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, “She’s understanding.”

Harry curtly nods his head and Louis cracks the top off a bottle of beer, offering it to him. Harry accepts and takes a swig, letting the coolness of the bottle chill his hands.

“So,” Louis states, grabs a slice of pizza and a napkin.

“So.”

Louis chuckles and shakes his head while biting his bottom lip, “Have a good day?”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Business picks up a little over the holidays, keeps me busy. You?”

“Yeah, good day,” Louis agrees, tries to slide his left hand up Harry’s arm. It leaves goosebumps, “Trying to get my lesson plans sorted out.”

“Good,” He rolls his shoulders and his back cracks slightly, Louis laughs at him.

“Bad back, huh?” He rises from his seat, places his hands on Harry’s shoulder and digs in comfortably. Harry’s head rolls to the right as he presses particularly deep in a sensitive knot on the left side.

“Yeah,” He adjusts slightly and Louis’ hands lift from his shoulders, Harry turns his head and Louis is gesturing for him to meet him on the couch, “Since I was, like, fifteen.”

“Take your shirt off,” Harry quirks a brow at him, more at the grin on his face than his words, “Lay down.”

So Harry complies and turns his head toward the television with white noise and feels Louis straddle his back, pushing small thumbs deep into his scapula. He squirms a little at the cold fingers but eventually sighs, “I need a masseuse.”

“You need a chiropractor,” Louis refutes, leans forward, and presses a kiss where his hair line ends, “Have you ever done yoga?”

“Yoga?” He laughs, but finds it hard from the weight on his back and feels self conscious because Louis can probably feel it.

“Don’t laugh,” Louis presses too hard into a thick knot in rebuttal and feels satisfied when Harry groans deep and gravelly, “Yoga, it’ll stretch out your back.” He leans down again, feels satisfied with his mediocre massage, Harry can feel the grin of his lips on the smooth skin, “And anywhere else you’re a little tense.”

“Hmm,” Harry mumbles, wriggles a little so Louis lifts to his knees so he can roll back to his back, his palms slide over Louis’ tight jeans, “And do you do yoga?”

“I do,” His bends at the waist and presses his jumper against Harry’s bare chest, ducks his head in the crevice of his neck and drops soft kisses, “No bad back, nice and stretched out, flexible.”

Harry’s fingers dip below the collar of his maroon jumper and scratch lightly at the base of his neck, “So you’d be able to teach me? Private lesson?”

Louis pulls away with a grin on his face, “I’m not very good but we could try giving it a go.

“Perfect,” Harry’s grin matches his own and he shifts his weight slightly, “Now, either you need to get rid of this jumper or hand me mine to put on because this is not fair.”

Louis’ hands fiddle with the edge of his jumper, lifts it up, exposes a little skin and a few dark hairs until Harry stops him, finishes pulling it over his head.

“Much better.”

-

Harry brushes his hand lightly against Louis’ for more than a block, he’s mumbling on about a touring play that’s coming to London early February that he just can’t wait to see. His movements are theatric, his voice booms when they walk down an alley, and it suits him.

He’s graceful and grand, light on his feet. Harry sometimes glances at his pigeon toes when he stumbles and shuffles loudly against the concrete sidewalks and wishes he had half the grace. He walks backward, gesturing with his hands while quoting line after line and switching characters more than once. He doesn’t know what to do, other than laugh and trail Louis around his city.

Even though he’s lived here more than half his life now he still gets lost, confused in the city. 

Louis drags him around and finds the Millenium bridge, they pass it and keep up the Thames. It’s a long walk, still about a mile away but they’ve got time and Louis loops his arm through Harry’s.

When Louis turns his head to talk, his breath warms Harry’s cheek. They pass a few people, wondering teenage couples and singles with alcohol in their hands. Harry’s mittens are shoved in his coat pocket, and so are Louis’. It’s not outrageously cold but enough to send shivers down Harry’s spine.

Obviously they’re very late, people have probably been lined up for hours now but they’re not that disappointed, they don’t mind not being squished in the middle and join the end of the crowd a mere ten minutes before the display is supposed to start.

They’re talking lightly about insignificants, bodies facing each other already. Even though they can’t see the countdown, they can sure hear it. It starts at 23:59, everyone counting down from sixty.

Louis’ got an iron grip on his forearm, when Harry looks down from everybody around him he finds Louis’ eyes smiling up at him. Harry pulls him into an easy embrace and Louis’ arms snake up around his neck.

Their breaths tangle together in the final countdown from ten.

When the screams erupt Louis presses his lips to Harry’s. It’s not like the teenage couples ferocious battles next to them, it’s soft and Louis’ jaw unhinges in search of Harry’s. Fireworks are clanging in the background and the kiss is lazy and they fall apart breathless.

Louis eyes flicker up toward the sky and Harry seizes the opportunity to press a quick peck to his warm lips, “Happy New Year.”

“Happy new beginnings,” Louis reaches to his tiptoes to whisper in Harry’s ear before dropping back down to his heels and unsnaking his arms to rest his head on Harry’s chest.

-

Louis walked Harry home, kissed him in front of the door before Harry asks him to come in.

“Just for a little bit.”

Harry pulls out a blanket and flips the television on, to news coverage of the late fireworks as Louis curls close to his side with tea wafting up his nose. His chin drops on Harry’s shoulder and his hand comes to rest on his thigh.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah,” Harry takes a swipe across his lips with his tongue, “I really did.”

“Good.” It’s silent for a while but Louis yawns and glances at his phone for the time, “I should probably go.”

“Okay,” Louis hands his hand out to help Harry up from the couch, who walks him to the door. Harry sighs into the kiss that he presses to his lips and feels overwhelmingly tired, “See you soon, right?”

“‘Course,” Louis nods, hand on the doorknob, “We can go out later, dinner date or something?”

“Yeah,” Harry slides his hand from the elbow he’d been clutching, “That sounds nice.”

“Okay, well,” Louis slides himself halfway through the door, “I’ll see you later then.”

Harry tosses out one last “Bye” as he escapes down the driveway to the sidewalk, returns to his warms couch and blanket in anticipation of his kids.

Darcy’s home first, always on time and responsible. Ollie trickles in ten minutes late but he doesn’t give him a hard time or a lecture about responsibility.

“Your hair’s a little messy,” Darcy runs her fingers through a few tangled curls as she passes by.

“Was a little windy outside.”

“Yeah?” She stops, “Where’d you go?”

“Fireworks.”

Harry can’t hear her and has to glance to see if she’s still there, and she is with a little smirk on her face, “Kiss anybody at midnight?”

Harry shakes his curls, “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” She repeats, starts walking again, “I see how it is.”

-

A couple of days later school resumes and Harry’s back to his busy days at the bakery full time and shipping kids off to wherever they need to be.

His mornings are early but he gets off mid-afternoon.

Louis drops by the first morning, gets greeted by the morning rush while he waits for tea and something sugary. Harry barely says ‘morning to him before somebody is asking for a scone and coffee and mini-doughnuts and a croissant and jam. Louis sends him a tired smile over the counter and adjusts the strap on the bag draped over his shoulder.

But it doesn’t stop. Louis grabs breakfast every morning, Harry starts prepping his tea at 7:05, five minutes before he arrives and shoves a pastry into a bag so that it’s ready when Louis arrives.

Sometimes he’s brushing snow out of his fringe with a bright smile and Harry feels like a teenage girl when he waits for him every morning. Louis insists on paying but Harry doesn’t let him and moves on to the next customer before he can refute.

Friday mornings are a little slower than usual, people running late or taking the day off of work, but it’s halfway through January and Louis’ on time and it’s kind of slow so he picks up a short conversation while a young university girl attends the cash register.

“Listen,” Louis drops over the counter, leans his chest against it, “The winter play I’m directing opens next weekend, and I mean, I understand if you don’t want to come but I’d be really happy if you did?”

Harry bites his lip in a smile, “Depends, is it that dirty one you had earlier?”

Louis laughs with a shake of his head, “Unfortunately, no it’s not.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Harry lets his fingers squeeze Louis’ over the counter quick, “What time?”

“19:30,” He replies, “I’ll text you directions?”

“Sounds good,” Harry takes a quick sip of his tea before passing it to Louis.

Louis’ mouth gapes as he snatches the cup from his hands, “That was not professional Harry Styles!”

“Lou,” Harry shrugs with a warm smile, “Have a good day.”

“Are you kicking me out now?” He jokes playfully as another customer walks in through the door, bells jingle against each other as the door drops to its frame.

“Welcome ma’am,” Harry announces to the older lady who walks through the door, “Bye Lou.”

“See you tonight?” He questions while he backs through the bakery.

“Tonight,” Harry nods and reaches toward something on the counter behind him, “Have a good day.”

“You too,” He tosses as the door drops shut with another soft jingle.

-

Harry suffers through a few technical difficulties that arrives with an ameature crew on opening night of a play but all in all it’s pretty decent, they’ve got a few good actors and it’s entertaining.

He sits by himself at the spot the ticket Louis dropped off for him assigned.

Louis’ worked hard and it shows, he can tell that the drama department is pretty serious when he walks the halls of Louis’ school, filled with framed photographs that replicate the covers of playbooks and movies with the leading actors and actresses.

At intermission there’s cookies and milk for sale so Harry grabs some and lets the chocolate chips melt in his mouth.

There’s people swarming the lobby of the auditorium, parents with flowers and techies leaving the light box and eventually actors full of stage makeup and gelled hair. Camera’s flash for facebook pictures and a few students are celebrating their last production and of everyone there Louis seems to be receiving the most attention.

A young girl coated with makeup is thanking him when he finally spots him in the lobby, her parents are behind her and are praising the choice in play. With a flick of the eye, he knows Louis has spotted him but he waits back until people start leaving and the crowd dies down a bit.

When Louis seemingly has a moment to himself he spreads his arms open wide and Louis ducks in, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” The hug is short and the only affection he offers, because there’s students and parents and probably a few teachers around, “It didn’t suck too much?”

“No,” Harry chuckles, “It really didn’t suck at all.”

“You’re too sweet,” Louis’ glowing and proud and another student steps in so Louis offers his hand to the parents and a congratulations to the actress.

Harry stands next to him and waits until everybody leaves, the crew and the actors and the techies before he steps into pace with Louis, “Where are you parked?”

“Down at the other end,” Harry motions down the carpark, grabs his hands, “C’mon, I wanna take you for ice cream.”

“Really?” Louis trickles behind him.

“Yeah,” Harry tugs his hand so they’re side by side, “And I know you want a ride home, I can drop you off.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Harry refutes, “And it’s cold outside, don’t want my boyfriend freezing in the cold.”

Louis’ eyes quickly flicker up to Harry’s face and he hasn’t even realized why Louis’ staring at him. Louis squeezes his hand tighter, “Boyfriend, eh?”

Harry misses a beat in his walk and trips up a little bit, sucks in a deep breath and lets it out, they can see it in the light of a streetlamp, “Boyfriend.”

Louis’ quiet but when he ducks into the passenger seat but Harry can see the soft smile on his face and feels satisfied, so he leans over to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

-

A couple weeks later Harry’s about to explode from all of Darcy’s teasing and questioning about Louis so he finally caves and has Louis over for dinner a few nights before Valentine’s day.

Ollie’s out, not willing to waste his Friday night but Olivia and Darcy are in, teasing him about his fretting over the meal he’s about to make.

Louis arrives with Rosie trailing behind with a large bag dangling from her arm. Her hair is curly and Olivia complements her bag.

It’s still about a half hour before his food will be ready so Louis joins hims in the kitchen after Rosie shoots him a ‘help me’ look, which he chooses to ignore and leaves her with the other two girls in the living room.

It’s an awkward atmosphere and Harry sighs heavily when he slides open the oven door for a peek at his meal, “Smells good.”

“Thanks,” Harry’s smile is weak and tired, “Feel free to grab something from the fridge.”

“M’kay,” Louis responds but doesn’t make much of a move.

When Harry’s done he pops his head out of the kitchen but the girls are gone so he pads toward the bedrooms and knocks on the doors until he gets a response, “Food’s ready.”

“Be out in a sec!” They shout through the door so Harry shrugs and returns to Louis, who’s sliding portions of pasta onto plates.

“They’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay,” Louis smiles up from the plates, “This is kind of awkward.”

Harry shrugs with a smile, “It’ll get better, it always gets better.”


End file.
